Forgive and Live
by Angel from the Sea
Summary: After the war, Harry feels personally responsible for all of the deaths and Draco feels like he is nothing but a mistake. Cna the two find it in themselves to forgive each other...and themselves?  No slash  some cursing exessive angst
1. Harry

**A/N: "To err is human, to forgive is divine." I always thought that Harry and Draco needed to forgive each other, and at King's Cross station in the epilogue, it seems as though they have made up (a bit). So, here's Harry's POV. I'll post Draco's tomorrow (if people review he he). Takes place about three months after the war which have been spent grieving or wallowing in sorrow. **

He had always been poised for failure, the worst happening to him. Was it all his fault? If he hadn't made Cedric take the tri-wizard cup, then Cedric Diggory would not have died. If Harry had practiced his Occlumency with Severus Snape and been better, then Sirius would not have been dead. If Harry hadn't listened to Dumbledore, maybe his life could have been saved. If he had only arrived to save Remus sooner, maybe his godson would have a father. Why did these people have to die for him?

Harry slumped onto the couch of his house that he and his girlfriend Ginny shared. He loved her, and she loved him, and he always wondered when the next blow was going to be dealt. For just about three months, nothing—besides funerals—had happened.

Each funeral was like a tease to him. "I would have been alive if you only…" And Harry hated himself for it. He tried to explain it to Ginny, but she wouldn't understand.

"You see it _is_ my fault. If I had been able to face Voldemort myself sooner, then he wouldn't have had to wage war on everyone. So many times I thought about giving up, but I kept fighting, for them, for us." A tear escaped his eye, and Ginny kissed his cheek. He brushed her away. "But damnit! If I would have died then they would have lived! It is all my fault that they died, Sirius, Remus, Cedric, Fred, Mad-eye Moody, even Grindelwald and Gregorgovitch…all because of a wand. A stupid wand and a fucking prophecy!" He grabbed a hold of a glass vase that was resting serenely on a table and raised it above his head. With a look of fury in his eyes, he smashed it to the floor.

A look of shock appeared on his face, as he realized what he did, and he fell down to the floor, ashamed. Ginny had a scared expression, but walked to his side and placed her arms around him. "It's not your fault love. It's you-know-who's. You could never have prevented their deaths." She kissed his black curls. "You cannot blame yourself Harry, it was not your fault, and nothing can change it."

He shook her off and raised his voice again. "But I could have tried! While the entire school was out risking everything they had, their unfinished lives—for me—I was playing hide-and-go-seek with a bunch of horcruxes. Which, sure, I found them, but I only found them _after_ countless good people had died. All of their lives—I destroyed them all. If I had just died as a baby, maybe everything would be better. Peaceful. Happy. Mindless. I IS my fault and you know it. Everyone knows it. The whole world would be better without me. Voldemort, well, If I hadn't had thwarted his attempts to kill me, then all of those people…they wouldn't have died. Cedric, you cannot deny that it was completely my fault. And Sirius too, if my actions were different, then they would have been alive today, and celebrating with the rest of the world. They should be celebrating a victory, raising their glasses to Harry freakin Potter, some bloke who has an infinite supply of luck and good fortune. No one cares. No one gives a damn that I'm the reason everyone died. Everyone just loves the fact that I killed Tom Riddle. And I didn't do a damn thing. I fucking sat and watched as others risked their life for me. If it wasn't for Ron and Hermione, I'd be dead fifty times over. If it wasn't for me, all the people I love could still be here. And Teddy could have a father, a mother, and a happy upbringing. It's all because of me…" He fell into silence.

Ginny was crying, frozen in place, shedding tears for her best friend's ignorance. Why could he not see that everyone was alive because of him? She was here because he saved her from the basilisk and Tom Riddle in her first year. The wizarding world was alive because he faced Voldemort and defended himself against him. He saved them all. "Harry," she choked out between sobs. "Harry you _are _amazing. You _are_ the reason we're alive." She sniffed. "You are the only reason that I am alive. You saved everyone even if you don't believe it."

Harry looked back at Ginny with a murderous glare. "You don't get it do you?" he shouted at her. She shook her head, tears running down her freckled cheeks. "Everyone needs me to be the hero and I can't! I can't do it anymore. I'm not some prince come to save the whole damsel world from the evil monster. I am _sick_ of labels, mine being The-boy-who-lived-thrice. Or for those more knowledgeable, the-boy-who-lived-cause-of-some-damn-luck. I overheard Voldemort say once, "Luck, that which spoils all but the best laid plans." And his plans were foolproof. There was no escape. _And I can't take it anymore!_ They died. Because of _me_!" Harry's wand was in his hand and he apparated to a room in his house that only he could enter. It was a safe haven for him. A place of destruction, where he released his anger on inanimate objects.

"_Diffindo, expulso, reducto, incendio, engorgio, expulso…_" He cursed the glass bottles he had gathered from all of the funerals he had been to. Everyone knew that when they finished a bottle of firewhiskey, they gave it to Harry. So he had over one thousand shrunken bottles waiting to be shattered in his cupboard in the secret room. Although the room was within his house, there was no door to get there, one had to apparate. And he had wards so that only he could enter and exit. Ginny had begged him to let her know the password, 'in case something happened' but he refused exclaiming, "The one time I get to have a room of my own…NO! That will be my own private property. No one else will be allowed to enter there. It'll be a place I can call my own." Ginny didn't argue with him further, knowing he wouldn't do anything harmful. But after thinking it over, she vowed to be more aware of how he was feeling.

"_Incendio_" yelled Harry as he watched fifteen brown glass bottles melt in the red flames. "_Diffindo_" he cursed, and grimaced as thirty bottles smashed open in the air, some shards of glass embedding themselves into his skin. He vanished the remains and sat down on a clean red armchair. He knicked it from Sirius's room and had a habit of collapsing into it when he needed comfort. He pocketed his wand and tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

Silently, he counted to one thousand, relaxing his mind and body. His fierce breathing slowed and his heart rate dropped. To an outsider, he would appear to be sleeping. Inside, however, he was in turmoil. He kept himself completely stationary as the deaths replayed themselves in his mind. Cedric saying, "Let's take it together…wands out do you reckon" and getting hit with the green light, Harry frozen with fear. Sirius slipping through the veil, Remus holding Harry back…Mad-eye, sacrificing himself and placing the lives of twelve others on the line for his sake.

His nightmares haunted him, but they were predictable. When he was asleep, he dreamt of Voldemort killing those he loved—Ginny, Ron, Hermione and all the others that were still alive. He saw his parents die over and over. But somehow he knew that the dreams with Voldemort were just that, nightmares and had no truth value to them. It was his thoughts that plagued him the most. Because he knew that his thoughts were true.

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	2. Draco

**A/N: It was brought to my attention that I made a mistake with their ages. Yes I had meant that Ginny was living with Harry, but I did not think as far to realize that she would only be 16. So, she was just visiting Harry's house. Harry had already proposed, so that's why I called it _their_ house.  
In the last chapter, Harry was just dealing with his grief, and he never knew how to express his feelings. Watching what his uncle did, he mirrors the only form of dealing with circumstances beyond his control that he knows of.  
Draco is soon to be married to Astoria Greengrass who was in love with him before the war, and now wants to see him return to his former self. **

The man with white blond hair screamed at his fiancee. "I could do anything in the world but it won't make a difference. I could donate what's left of my bastard father's fortune and I'd still be a fucking Death Eater. I could kill myself for them but I'd STILL BE A DEATH EATER! I could run around wearing pink and fucking purple like that hailed Dumbledore and people would still label me as a Death Eater. No one gives a damn about me anymore! All because of who my parents were and the crappy life I had, all because of my disgusting Malfoy blood am I scorned and spit upon every damned place I walk. I'd rather be Neville. That kid who was always losing his toad. But no, I was never allowed to because I was a DEATH EATER! And we Death Eaters don't need affection. We don't need to give it or get it. We need pain and a mask to hide behind." He blew up a chair at the dining room table. In the dining room that the Dark Lord took over.

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_ Three more chairs exploded into wood splinters. "That was for Lucius, Bellatrix and you Tom Riddle, for RUINING MY LIFE!" "_Incendio_" he cursed, "That's for you Rodolphus for all the pain you put me through. I'll let you burn."

He sat in a chair. "And you Severus. Dear Severus. To think you once sat in this seat, less than a year ago, watching a colleague die in front of you. You risked everything for the light. Why Severus? Why could I not have been more like you? You explained to me many times that I am not my father and I can make my own decisions. But I couldn't understand. I wouldn't understand. For back then I was a fool. I WAS AN IDIOT! I prided myself for being a Malfoy. And what do Malfoy do? We follow. And where'd that get you Lucius? Where did following Him around and catering to his every whim get you…Azkaban. Humiliation. For everyone." He blew up the chair to his right, again, for Lucius.

Astoria came over and placed a kiss on his golden-white hair. "I love you Draco. And I care. It was not your fault, dear. Plenty of others suffer the same fate as you. You're not the onl…" She tried her best to console him, but he interrupted her.

He stood up and brought his wand to her chest. "Don't you DARE finish that sentence. No one understands. I had a choice, and I chose wrong. I _chose_ wrong. Those idiots can claim to have been under the Imperius but they sure as hell weren't. The Imperius wasn't used on us Death Eaters. We all _chose_ to do what we did. We knowingly murdered and tortured and cruciated countless muggles and supposed blood-traitors. Why? Because He fucking said. And what He says, you do. One question, one word, and you are on the floor. Tortured or dead, either one seriously sucks. And you, you don't know a thing about what I went through." His wand was still digging into her neck.

He realized this as he came out of his fury, and pulled away quickly. Tears were cascading down her cheeks, and she was making no effort to conceal them. He awkwardly put his wand away and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry Astoria, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. I'm so sorry." He wrapped his other arm around her and enveloped her in a hug, burying his face in her hair. He smelled her peach shampoo and closed his eyes for a moment, forgetting his troubles.

Her voice broke him out of the calmness. "Don't be sorry," she whispered. "It's not your fault."

Abruptly, he pushed her away, storming off to his room. "Damn right it's not." He muttered. And then louder, "Whose is it then? God's? I fuckin doubt that." And angrily pushed open a door to a room where he just let himself think.

The walls were grey and completely bare. There was a mahogany desk in the back of the room where he sat and wrote, or just sat. Draco pulled out a quill and started listing his mistakes. For the fiftieth time in the past three months after the war ended. _Lord Voldemort's follower, Lucius Malfoy's son, a Death Eater, a Slytherin, Dumbledore's almost-murderer, Potter's enemy, a smartass…_ the list went on. All of the things he was, but should not have been, and cannot change. If only he wasn't…anyone of those horrible things on the list. Maybe, he could be a better person. But those mistakes were in the past, and there was nothing he could do about it now.

It was not his choice to be Lucius's son, but he could have chosen to be in Ravenclaw like Sirius chose to be in Gryffindor. But he was a coward. He could have chosen to stand up to Voldemort, but he was a coward. He should have apologized to Potter, but yet again, he is a coward. He tells himself that he might have been able to prevent becoming a Death Eater if only he went to someone who was on the light side. He could have gone to Professor Dumbledore and become good. But he didn't.

He stared at the dark mark, forever etched into his pale white skin. The snake curling out from the mouth of the skull, eating death wriggled on his skin. The skin was an angry red color around it, which contrasted sharply against the pale white and the night black. He had tried everything to remove it from his skin. The most satisfying was to rip at it with his bare hands. He scratched at it and stabbed it with his quill, not noticing the pain, when Astoria found him.

She came by his side. "Draco love," then she saw what he had been doing and gasped. "Dear Lord, stop that Draco." Astoria gently pried the quill from his hand and gathered it in her own. She knelt down in front of him and the chair and gingerly took his other hand in her other hand. She brought his hand with the black tattoo to her mouth and kissed the dark mark. Draco's shoulders slumped and he let his head fall forward, closing his eyes, as she sucked out the evil. It was all figurative, but he felt a bit purer when she raised her lips to his.

He kissed her back, but it was an echo of what he could do. What he did before the war. He ended the kiss and whispered softly to her. "Thank you. I'm sorry for…" She cut him off with another kiss, this one more urgent than the last. He smiled, although in reality, it was not a smile, but merely the absence of a frown which had become the most prominent facial expression for him. He even stopped his trademark smirk since there was nothing to be happy about.

After they broke apart, Draco took in a deep breath and stood up. "Nothing can change any of these mistakes. They're all in the past, all horrible choices _I _made _myself_." He shoved the list into her face, and she reached up and grabbed it.

She read the note, and questioned, "Potter's enemy: are you sure that that is unchangeable? You could apologize." She crouched backwards, waiting for him to lash out again at her for suggesting the idea.

Instead, his eyes opened a bit, and he kissed her cheek. "Thank you Astoria, thank you, thank you." He un-grimaced again, his version of a smile. "I will try that." He bounded out of the room, a renewed spring in his step. Astoria followed after him, a gleaming smile on her face. She did not particularly know Harry Potter, but if it made her husband happy and gave him something to smile about, she didn't care what Draco had to do.

Draco was walking down the grand staircase of the Malfoy home, when suddenly he stopped. Astoria questioned, "What is the matter dear?"

He spun around and faced her on the stair above him. Looking up at her, he asked, "How do I apologize, I can't very well march up to Potter and say to him, 'sorry for fucking up your life, pretty please forgive me?' And leave, I'm sure it doesn't work like that." He waited for a response from his fiancee.

She offered her opinion. "Perhaps you could invite him over here, for lunch or something. And maybe you guys could talk it out. I'm sure that Harry Potter would be amiable to that idea. Didn't he offer not to kill you-know-who? Didn't he offer _him_ forgiveness?" She took his hand and led him down the remaining stairs and to the living room couch.

Draco took his seat on one of the dark green couches trimmed with silver and sighed. "I suppose that could work. Astoria, could you floo him please? And perhaps you could invite him over." He begged her to call Potter for him, but she refused.

"No," she said, "I'm not the person he wishes to speak with. It's you darling." She tossed him some floo powder, the dust dirtying his robes.

Irritated, he stood up and brushed off his robes and grabbed another handful of floo powder. "Fine," he said sharply. "Fine I'll do it myself. Watch me."

And watch him she did. She watched with amusement as Draco scurried around the room, quite slowly, as if he was stalling for time. He removed all of the objects on the table, and banished them (very slowly) to their proper placed. He wandered to the dining room and straightened up that room as well. After thirty minutes of pointless putting away of things, Astoria commented. "Draco love, it's been half an hour and you are no closer to apologizing to Harry Potter than you were before. Time to fix one of your mistaken labels." She went in for the kill, hoping to persuade her fiance to apologize and forgive Harry Potter for whatever the man had done to Draco to make him so flustered. "It's time to right one of your mistakes. But, enough from me, I'll go finish clearing the house up while _you_ floo call Harry and invite him over. If he says no, mention another time." She wandered away, leaving Draco to call Harry himself.

Draco Malfoy put on his mask of indifference, his Occlumency shields up, and threw the handful of powder into the flickering flames. "Potter Residence." He said, and his head popped out of Harry's fireplace. "Potter?" He called not tentatively, but boldly of course, because he _was_ a Malfoy.

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	3. Conversing

Harry slumped around his house dejectedly. There were a few more months until the Auror Department would let him begin training. They claimed that it might upset Harry Potter if he has to face the Dark Arts again so soon. Ginny was back at Hogwarts after the few weeks off the school had graciously given her. And Harry was downright bored. With extra time, Hermione would say he should be studying, but in all honesty, who could worry about school right after a war. It seemed too normal. And Ron would tell him to go for a fly around his yard on his broomstick. That seemed too happy. And flying was no fun alone, so maybe Harry should invite Ron over?

No Ron was busy worrying about his own future. Maybe Harry could… "Potter," said a voice from his living area. "Potter, I wish to speak with you."

'Who could that be?' wondered Harry. He knew that there were plenty of witches wishing to 'speak' with him. But, this was no witch. This was a wizard who Harry knew extremely well, even if he preferred not to.

By the well-placed hiss and arrogant tone, Harry correctly identified his visitor as Draco Malfoy. "Draco Malfoy?" Harry questioned as he walked up to his fireplace. "What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?" He asked with a disbelieving tone. He was incredulous! Why on earth would Malfoy want to, scratch that, _wish_ to speak with him? Granted, he was a famous wizard, but he doubted that his visit had anything to do with acquiring more fame. "Well I suppose you can come through, I know how uncomfortable sticking your head through a fireplace can be."

Draco nodded curtly, and disappeared for a moment before stepping through into Harry's living room. He arrived and dusted his robes off, straightened up to make sure that he was still taller than Potter.

Harry smiled awkwardly at his former enemy and for a moment, the two of them stared at each other. "Potter, you look terrible." Drawled Draco. "Your appearance is atrocious and your house is a mess, you should invest in a house elf if you feel you are above the work required to own a respectable…whoa there Potter, don't get offensive. I came here to talk." Harry had pulled out his wand at the notion of himself being arrogant.

Harry shoved it back into his robes and, still scowling said, "Well then _Draco_, if you came here to talk, then _talk_. I have better things to do than listen to your insults." He sat down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm sorry," Draco muttered. Harry's eyebrows rose slightly. "Yes _Harry_, I regret my decisions and I am sorry for being a jerk to the world." He hissed and begun to speak through his teeth, still retaining his mask of apathy. "Would you like to visit myself and my fiancée at my house today? For lunch perhaps, it's just that she has been…" Draco shook his head. "Well? A response would be truly appreciated."

Harry's eyebrows shot higher on his forehead. "Uh, yeah, sure. Well this is new. I uh, yeah."

Draco walked to stand in front of Harry and took out his wand. Consequently, Harry took a few steps backward. Draco rolled his eyes and explained to Harry, "I am not looking for a duel, I've had enough of those to last me for a lifetime; I've known enough pain to last me an eternity in Hell. Trust me Potter, I have no more desire than you to duel. I was merely going to try to straighten up your appearance before we go to my house. Don't want my fiancée to think you're one of those unrespectable wizards."

Harry looked dubiously at the slicked back blond hair and the pristinely managed midnight black robes complete with silver trimmings where necessary and his immaculate complection and wondered how he looked in comparison. Frankly, he didn't give a damn what he looked like when it was just he and good old time in the house. He sighed and told Draco, "Fine Malfoy, but my hair stays. And your insults stop. Now."

Draco smirked and twirled his wand while casting some transfiguration charms on Harry's robes. "There, acceptable. Now if you'll follow me Potter, we can go eat lunch and, yes. Floo address is 'Malfoy Mansion'. He threw in a handful of the powder and stepped through the fireplace.

Harry followed, the same blank expression was back on his face, and he looked tired and bored. Stumbling out of the fireplace in a very familiar mansion, Harry tensed immediately. He cursed himself for his momentary lack of judgment. Why on earth would Malfoy want to have lunch with him? He wasn't truly sorry; it was all a staged performance to goad Harry Potter into the clutches of the remaining Death Eaters. He whipped his wand out expecting black-cloaked figures, but saw none. Then were they hiding?

"Potter, why the worried look." Draco said arrogantly. "Afraid my food might be poisoned? I assure you, it is not. Come with me, I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée, Astoria."

Draco walked with Harry as he pocketed his wand warily but followed the blond-haired man.

Astoria greeted her fiancé with a quick kiss and pulled him to sit next to her at the table. Harry noticed with gratitude towards Draco that it was not the same table that Voldemort had used, but a smaller, more cheerful looking table. "Hello Harry Potter, I do wish to know what you would like to eat for lunch today. Would you care for some appetizers? Perhaps some fresh tomatoes and mozzarella I have acquired. In Italy, it was wonderful. Would you like some?" Astoria gently smiled as she shifted into hostess mode. Harry looked at her with tired eyes and gave her an attempt at a smile. He half-nodded, and Astoria cheerfully left the room, probably to fix lunch for the three.

"She's your fiancée?" Harry asked to Draco. "She seems a model Malfoy."

Draco scowled slightly. "Coming from you that seems like an insult. She's wonderful. Your girlfriend is a wonderful weasel isn't she?" He retorted. Harry's eyes darkened for a moment.

"Ah here it is. Harry, I'm sure you'll find this exquisite. It isn't fancy much, but it has a splendid taste. Draco here loves it." Astoria came flouncing into the room at precisely the right moment and set the plate of Italian-inspired food down. Harry waited for someone else to take a piece before he lay a finger on one of those delicious looking pieces of mozzarella. As if sensing his uncomfortableness, Astoria took one herself. "They are delicious, try one Harry."

Harry glanced at Draco, who seemed pensive and disinterested. Harry wondered who really invited him here, for it seemed as if Astoria was the person who wanted to talk with him. Reluctantly, he picked up the cheese and ate it. He smiled, "That is quite good. Thank you Astoria, it's wonderful." Harry sat back in his chair and looked over to Draco.

Draco was frantically thinking of how to broach the subject of _why_ he did what he did during the war. Draco was surely going to get angry if he began to talk about what he was forced to do. Oh well, he thought, Potter can handle my anger. "Astoria dear, could you leave us for a while?" Astoria looked at her fiancé and after a moment, nodded. "Thank you." And she left to go to her rooms.

"Potter," Draco began, in an inflectionless tone. "I am fairly certain that you have no regrets in your part of the war, and might assume that we 'Death Munchers'" he said the label with contempt, "feel the same. You heroes believe that we are selfish and shallow and remorseless."

Harry looked at Draco distantly. "You really think that Malfoy? Do you truly believe that not one of us understands what you had to go through? You think that all of us had it easy and couldn't possibly comprehend the feeling you get when your family and friends die in front of you and you're powerless to stop it. You are damn wrong. I regret every single death that happened ever since I was born. If I hadn't been born, then no one would have died. You are shallow Malfoy," he said with compassion, "and it would do you good to recognize your weakness."

Draco stood up and resumed his emotionless voice. "Well, if I won't be forgiven, I guess you can leave now. It would do _you_ good to know that the world doesn't revolve around you. Yes yes, I'm sorry for your tragic loss and all, but do realize, we've lost more than any of the supposed 'light side' during the war. We lost _everything_ that we held dear. So get rid of that 'me me me' attitude Potter. I should have known, why would a descendant of James Potter want anything more than fame?" Potter pushed his chair back and whipped his wand out and poited it at Draco.

He was furious. "You can talk shit about _me_ Malfoy, I know what I did was terrible, but don't you DARE bring my father into this. Is that what you have to resort to? Insulting the _dead?_ I can think of a few comebacks." Draco stood there, his perfect mask of indifference on him, and Harry huffed. "I guess you're right know-it-all, you don't deserve my forgiveness. You're one to talk about anscestry. You're a fool Malfoy, a vain, arrogant fool. You don't really care about anyone else."

Draco scowled at his childhood nemesis and pointed a finger to the fireplace. "If you cannot handle my arrogance then, get out. Get out." Harry indignantly remained where he was and Draco sent a hex his way. "Get out of my house!"

Harry blocked the hex and made a dash for the fireplace. Tossing some floo powder into the flames, he glanced back at Draco, who was seething and jumped into the emerald flames.


	4. Thinking Twice

Harry threw his cloak on the couch and sat down on top of it, wrinkling it in the process. He ran his hand through his unruly hair. Why did Malfoy bother to apologize to him when all he really wanted to do was insult him? He could fabricate excuses, 'The Nargles got to him' or 'the crumple horned snorckack invaded his lopsygrass garden and he was feeling impulsive' but nothing made sense (unless you were Luna). (**A/N I love Luna…don't hate) **And also, what was with his own reaction to the whole thing. He was just playing along and following his own impulses. Hermione always chided him for that, acting without thinking. But siriusly, how was he supposed to think if something drastic was about to happen, you just DO.

So maybe he shouldn't have insulted Dra—Malfoy when he only meant to do something nice (which he was bad at, but still). The little ferret obviously wasn't used to _feeling sorry_ or anything of the sort. Harry thought that maybe he could cut Dr—Malfoy some slack and apologize for insulting him. Even if Draco didn't accept or attempt to reciprocate, it would be one more thing that Harry would do right.

Harry abruptly stood up, decided on his plan, he would floo back over to Draco's house and tell the little ferret he was sorry for calling him a rude, arrogant fool, and offering his forgiveness. Sounded like a jolly good plan at the moment. He marched over to his fireplace and called out _Malfoy Mansion_ and placed one foot into the flames.

Harry recalled Hermione's words. 'You never think twice about anything Harry! Try it once and see if your opinion changes. If it does, then think it over again.' He pulled his foot back a bit when something pushed him backwards and he fell onto his wooden floor with a loud thump.

_Draco scowled at his childhood nemesis and pointed a finger to the fireplace. "If you cannot handle my arrogance then, get out. Get out." Harry indignantly remained where he was and Draco sent a hex his way. "Get out of my house!"_

_Harry blocked the hex and made a dash for the fireplace. Tossing some floo powder into the flames, he glanced back at Draco, who was seething and jumped into the emerald flames._

Draco stood staring after the fireplace where his former rival had jumped into the flames with a frown. He was a failure. He sent Potter over here to reconcile and make himself feel marginally better, and all he ended up doing was insulting his father, not to mention Harry himself. "Astoria," he called quietly, knowing she was watching him and would hear. She appeared beside him quickly and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Come sit," she said softly, calming Draco slightly. "You will go back to his house and apologize, just as he wants to apologize to you love." They sat in a green loveseat and Astoria took his hand in hers. "I need you to go back to him, for yourself, and for me. I need you to be happy, and I know what you need. Go to him and be honest and truthful. He will be the last person to judge you dear, I think that he, like Dumbledore did with Snape, will be able to give you a second chance if you ask for it. Please, go to him." She brought her lips to his dark mark and he pulled his arm back. He shook his black sleeve down and let it cover the black skull and snake again as his fiancée bit her lip, as if she wanted to say something, but refrained and merely stoked his cheek. Astoria then got up and left the sitting area without a glance back.

"Wait, what do I say? He left and I doubt he will want me in his house after what I've said to him! Help me!" But Astoria didn't answer him, she only looked back at him as if to say, 'it's up to you now, the ball's in your court.'

Draco lept of the couch and ran to his fireplace, knowing that if he stopped, he would overthink it and not go through with his plan. For once, he suppressed the urge to think twice about what he wanted and just 'go with it' something he never did. Slytherins always thought every action through. Not this time.

He threw the floo powder in carelessly and jumped through while saying 'Potter residence' with a shaky voice.

Back in the sitting room, Astoria was smiling happily.

**Sorry my chapters are getting shorter, I was inspired to write this by some dreadfully boring stuff about the Cold War. As a pacifist, it infuriates me. Although I do enjoy making comparisons to Harry Potter characters. Wow, that dictator is an awful lot like Voldemort, he's got secret police that come to your house and murder you an everything. Just like the death eaters! It makes history so much more interesting. –wait, is that Albania I see referenced! Ha, I know where that is! I also know what used to be in one of those trees! But if I ever told my SS teacher that, she'd look at me like I have three heads, so I keep my musings to myself. I can share them with those who understand. (oh and social hierarchies are a lot like the death eater ranks, just saying—especially in colonized South America during the 1600's)**


End file.
